


When I wake (will you be there)

by silvercolour



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Martin has a Nightmare but Jon is there to Fix it, Post MAG-159, with hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26164330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvercolour/pseuds/silvercolour
Summary: Martin wakes from a nightmare– again, and for a short time (for far too long) he thinks himself alone. Jon wakes up to find Martin gone, and goes to find him.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 132
Collections: Silver’s h/c fills





	When I wake (will you be there)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Friday of the TMA hurt/comfort week on Tumblr; All fills for this week will be posted to my tumblr (@silver-colour) as well as here on Ao3, to the collection this fic is also a part of!

Martin wakes up with a gasp that sounds horribly loud in their still bedroom. Waking felt like falling, as though he hit the ground, and should now be horribly injured, except he isn’t. He’s just lying in bed, next to Jon. 

The nightmare is already slipping from his mind, quicksilver and unreachable. He tries in vain to grasp at the edges, to keep hold of it, to see, to remember, to understand; he fails. It’s the same nightmare that’s woken him up almost every night since their arrival in Scotland, that much he does know. Martin isn’t paranoid, really he isn’t, but the same nightmare that many times? That’s definitely suspicious. 

He stares at the ceiling, the nightmare gone from his mind, leaving only the fear of it behind. Squeezing his eyes shut, he wills sleep to return. It doesn’t work, just like every previous time. Once woken he can only lie there, tired beyond words yet unable to fall back asleep.

Tilting his head towards Jon, Martin sees that he is still asleep. Again, just like every other time. It’s a small mercy, at least. They do not both need to suffer from his inability to sleep more than a few hours at a time. And Jon needs his sleep much more than Martin does. (Martin knows Jon would disagree with him there, but, well, Jon isn’t awake to argue.)

Suddenly Martin cannot stay there any longer. Perhaps its the bed, old and sagging slightly, that’s losing him sleep. Perhaps the couch might make a better bed. At a time when he was more awake, Martin might’ve thought about what Jon would think, waking up alone in bed, only to find that Martin had abandoned him for the couch. But Martin is only awake enough to realise that he won’t be sleeping in this bed. So, slowly, sluggishly, Martin unfolds himself from the nest of blankets. 

The living room is cold, and the old embers from the fire have long since lost their heat. Martin takes both quilts from the couch, usually there to keep them warm until the fire heats up the room, and nestles in.

The couch isn’t long enough for him, and even lumpier than the bed. Worse, now that he’s started moving around, Martin has also begun to properly wake up. It’s hateful. He won’t be able to sleep on the couch either, that’s certain.

After several minutes (hours? Hard to tell in the dark) Martin gives up, and shuffles himself over to the kitchen. If he’s going to be awake, he’ll at least have some tea to make up for it. The chairs at the kitchen table aren't uncomfortable, at least. The tea he makes by touch and scent alone, not wanting to light the searingly bright kitchen lamps. Slowly he fills the kettle, and takes care to not-quite let it boil, to avoid the loud whistling that will no doubt wake Jon up.

...Jon. Jon is alone right now. In their bed. Gods, what was he thinking, leaving him there just like that? What would Jon have thought, if he’d woken up in the morning and found Martin had moved to the couch? He would’ve assumed that Martin didn’t want to be here anymore– that Martin regretted even coming to Scotland with him, maybe.

Which was  _ categorically _ not true. Their situation –both of their very different situations– had been  _ very _ bad, they hadn’t spoken in weeks, and Jon had just– He’d just walked into the Lonely, for  _ Martin, _ and here he was…

Martin closes his eyes and hugs his mug of tea. It’s still far too hot to hold properly, but the sensation, being able to feel something,  _ anything, _ even if it’s painful– it’s worth it. Worth it not to think about that dreadful, forsaken–

“Martin?”

Oh god, Jon  _ had _ woken, and he  _ did _ notice Martin had left. What would he think? A small noise escapes Martin as he attempts to curl in on himself on the chair without spilling his tea. He’s afraid he knows exactly what Jon must be thinking.

“Martin, are you alright?” Jon moves through the kitchen, navigating it faultlessly even in the darkness, and kneels in front of Martin’s chair. “What happened, is something wrong?”

Martin can only shake his head, thoughts spinning wildly around his head.  _ Jon found out I left- what if he’ll leave- I don’t want to be alone– _

A hand touches Martin’s for the briefest of moments, before Jon flinches back–  _ he doesn’t even want to touch you- you messed up- you had one chance Martin Blackwood, and you screwed it up completely– _

“Martin, please!”

Jon’s hand is back, and tugging the far-too-hot mug of tea on which he just burned himself out of Martin's hands. Then he takes both of Martin’s hands in his own.

“Please tell me what happened– and please,  _ please _ , don’t hurt yourself. Are your hands okay? That mug was way too hot…” He trails off, at a loss.

“I’m okay, Jon,” Martin says, but his voice sounds far too shaky to be believable, even to himself. “I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to wake up alone, I–“ his voice breaks, and a tear rolls down his face. It falls down on their entwined hands.

“Martin?” Gods, Jon sounds so scared, his voice so small. What is he doing, hurting Jon like this.

A whisper: “I’m sorry for leaving you, Jon.”

A beat of silence. Two.

“Leaving me? No, Martin, I–“ a deep breath, inhale, exhale “Martin. Please listen to me. If you want to leave– no, please, listen to me,” he says, as Martin tries to interrupt, to deny that he ever wanted to leave. “If you ever want to leave, which I hope you don’t, you need not apologize for it. Ever, you understand me?” Hands, squeezing his own.

“Yes, Jon,” his voice still no louder than a whisper. Martin feels Jon rest his forehead against their hands.

“For heaven’s sake, you came all the way to Scotland with me, you’ve done so much for me– even though I never treated you… I never treated you anywhere near as well as you deserve.  _ I _ should be the one apologizing for dragging  _ you _ out here. I don’t want to keep you against your will, whether that is here in the middle of  _ absolutely nowhere _ , or if you’d rather not sleep in the same bed, or, or anything. Please just tell me, it’s alright, that’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Oh, Jon,” his voice has finally returned to him, it seems. He feels Jon lift his head, although Martin still cannot see him. “I don’t ever want to leave you, I never did. I–“

“No apologies!” Martin huffs a laugh. He cannot see the stern look, but he knows Jon is wearing it.

“Alright, alright, I won’t. I’ve just… I’ve been having nightmares, and then I keep lying awake for _hours,_ so I got up– but by the time I got here I started thinking, what if you wake up and assume that I don’t want to be here anymore? Because I do, Jon, I really do want to be here. But I just…” he takes a deep breath, inhale, exhale, just like Jon did earlier. He has to say this, he has to speak the words, even if he’d rather not ever think about it again.

“I was scared I’d be alone again.”

“Oh Martin,” Jon whispers, and surges up to envelop him in a hug. The hug is warm, and soft, and it’s only now that Jon is holding him that Martin realizes Jon brought a blanket with him. Then he realizes Jon has been sitting on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor this whole time.

“This can’t be comfortable for you, Jon; let’s move to the couch?” He murmurs the words into the blanket and Jon’s shoulder.

“Martin…,” they separate only far enough for Jon to look at him (he can probably See Martin just fine, even if Martin can barely make out a silhouette).

“Martin, I’d happily be uncomfortable for far longer for you, I hope you know that?” Martin nods, assuming Jon can see him. He seems to, because he continues, with a hint of a smile in his voice: “If I had to, and there was no couch available in the next room. Which there is. Come on.”

Jon stands, but keeps a hold of Martin’s arms. They walk to the couch like that, where Jon lets go of him only for as long as it takes to switch on the small reading lamp on one of the side tables. Then he returns to where Martin is curled up on the couch.

Jon wraps himself around Martin, face-to-face and legs tangling with his own. Finally able to see Jon, Martin cannot stop himself from humming a greeting: “Hi.”

“Hey, you,” Jon whispers back. His smile is crooked, not yet entirely devoid of worry. Partially to hide from that knowing, worrying look, and partially to be closer to Jon, Martin hides his face in the crook of Jon’s neck.

Jon pulls one hand out of their hug, and very, very gently tilts Martin’s head up, to where they can look at each other.

“Martin…,” Jon closes his eyes for a moment, and rests his forehead against Martin’s. “I know you said you didn’t want to leave, but will you promise me that if you ever change your mind, or doubt that at all, you will just tell me? Without feeling bad about it? Please?”

Martin nods. Jon opens his eyes. They’re close enough to feel each other’s breaths now. “Thank you– I’d hate losing you, but the thought of hurting you is far worse.” 

Then Jon wraps his arm back around Martin, as though he hasn’t just said the single most wonderful, most loving, most attentive thing Martin has ever heard. 

Here, in their hideaway, in the middle of nowhere, Scotland, held in Jon’s arms, Martin feels cherished, and safe. More so than he ever has anywhere else.

**Author's Note:**

> My other fills for this week:
> 
> [DAY 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067358) jonmartin Shaky hands/Holding hands  
> [DAY 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26099584) the Admiral improves Jon’s bad day  
> [DAY 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26127337) Hiking, jon has an accident, and Strong!Martin  
> [DAY 4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26142172/chapters/63601369) Vampire!Jon, touch-starved, hugs (chapter 1 of 2)  
> [DAY 6](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179093) Jonmartin, fluffy marriage proposal  
> [DAY 7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26196100) MAG160, told from Martin's POV
> 
> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think of the fic- I love hearing from you guys!!


End file.
